Authors note: Thank you all for your comments.

Chapter Eight

Athos and d'Artagnan watched the fighting from the doorway of the cottage. Athos knew there was no need for him to join the fight. Treville and the Musketeers and cadets were easily overpowering Perrault's men.

D'Artagnan was leaning heavily on the door frame but had perked up enough to be following the action. Athos had steadied the injured man a couple of times and was alert to his friend passing out. Athos was surprised d'Artagnan was still standing, but the young man seemed determined to be with his brothers in spirit if not in body.

They watched as Porthos and three Musketeers, they could not make out who it was, fought a group of men several yards from the cottage. The thick wood blocking their view frequently. They had seen Porthos getting injured by the pock-marked man then lost track of what was happening for a few seconds as a couple of cadets charged past following three of Perrault's men as they made a break for it. Treville had shouted at the cadets to let the men go. Athos knew Treville was right to leave the escaping men alone, they would not return. Not when their paymaster had so easily been defeated by the Captain.

When Athos had reached the door and tentatively pulled it open, he had been greeted with the sight of Perrault trying to engage Treville in a sword fight. Perrault had all the skill of a drunk red guardsman on a bad day. Treville disarmed the man and pushed him to the ground with one move. When Perrault had looked as though he might complain and try to pull rank Treville had stepped close enough to rest the tip of his sword on the noble's throat. The man had stilled, staring wide-eyed at the Captain, his mouth open.

One of the cadets who was not far off getting his commission had stepped forward after dealing with the man he had been fighting and offered to take over watching Perrault. Treville had nodded before stepping back. Perrault had looked almost relieved to be put in the care of someone other than the angry Musketeer Captain.

Athos glanced back to Porthos in time to see him run the skinny man he had been fighting with through. Porthos looked as though the exhaustion he must have been feeling was finally catching him up. He leaned back against the nearest tree for a few seconds breathing hard. Barbotin walked up to him, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket as he went. Porthos accepted the square of cloth, wadding it up and pressing it against the sword wound to his shoulder. Athos could see the white fabric being stained red far too quickly. But Porthos was not going to need to fight any further and could allow himself to be looked after.

As they all could.

Athos would gladly admit that he was ready for a chance to sit down for a few minutes without the worry of being burned out of the cottage or killed in some other way as he rested.

D'Artagnan had given up any pretence that he was alright. As the fighting had stopped and the Musketeers had either killed or secured the hired men as prisoners, d'Artagnan had moved to sit on the ground just outside the door of the cottage, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Athos was about to join his brother when a movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to look towards Treville who was walking towards them. The pock-marked man was running towards the Captain, a dagger in his hands, a murderous expression on his face.

Treville had seen Athos' shocked look and turned in time to find the man charging at him. There was nothing Treville could do. He had no time to draw a weapon.

Time seemed to stop for Athos. He could not believe that after all they had been through, he was about to watch his Captain, his saviour, stabbed by one of the men who had been causing him and his brothers pain.

The pock-marked man raised his arm, the knife, already covered with blood, clutched firmly in his hand.

Athos was snapped from his shocked, stunned stare, by a gunshot ringing out across the wood. The pock-marked man's momentum kept him going forward for several strides even though he could not have held a conscious thought in his very dead head. The ball of the gun had entered his head through his left eye leaving him with a very vacant expression indeed.

Treville managed to step aside as the body hit the ground sliding a few inches before it came to a stop, blood already dripping from the fatal wound.

Athos looked across in the direction the gun had been fired. He saw Porthos and Barbotin. Porthos was still holding the gun. Athos realised Porthos had seen what was about to happen as Barbotin was talking to him. Porthos had pulled Barbotin's gun from his weapon belt and shot the pock-marked man, arresting his deadly attack.

'Thank you,' said Treville, who was unable to hide the relieved tone in his voice.

MMMM

Athos watched as organised chaos descended on the scene. Barbotin guided Porthos over to the cottage. He looked at Athos who realised what the unasked question was.

'Aramis was poisoned, he is sleeping it off,' said Athos, noting the guilty look that had crept back onto Porthos' face. 'D'Artagnan has a couple of sword wounds, not too serious, but they could do with looking at, he was also knocked out a few hours ago. He's still suffering from a headache. I have a gash across my arm which needs stitches.'

Porthos looked at Athos' arm for a few seconds with confusion.

'We tried to escape out of the back of the cottage, we were shot at, I fell awkwardly, catching my arm on the window frame.'

Porthos nodded, 'I saw you making a hasty retreat, didn't know you'd been injured.'

'Quite a lot has happened in the last few minutes,' said Athos as Porthos was persuaded to sit on the ground next to him. 'Let them see to Aramis, he's in safe hands.'

Athos lay his hand over Porthos' arm when his brother tried to look into the cottage as Barbotin and one of the cadets went to check on Aramis.

'You can thank Pierre and Marc that we found you,' said Treville as he walked up to them. 'They overheard that idiot saying he'd killed a musketeer as revenge.'

Athos shook his head in disgust as he watched Perrault having his hands tied behind his back by a couple of cadets who were taking great joy in their responsibility of watching the now disgraced noble.

'I look forward to hearing exactly what happened,' said Treville, 'after you've had a chance to have your injuries dealt with and have eaten,' Treville turned to the Musketeers who had assembled nearby. 'We're staying the night here. I want a fire started and food cooked for us all. Clemont,' Treville paused, waiting for Barbotin to appear at the doorway of the cottage, 'what do you need?'

'Fresh water, I've got enough supplies otherwise,' said Barbotin.

Porthos was leaning forward again, trying to see Aramis.

'He's fine, Porthos,' said Barbotin, 'I'll get him settled on one of the beds.'

Barbotin beckoned another of the cadets over to help him before disappearing back into the cottage.

Athos sat back and watched as his brother Musketeers followed their Captains orders. He knew they were safe. Although he was not particularly looking forward to explaining all that had gone on to Treville.

MMMM

Aramis had managed to sit himself up. When he had come around, he had been a little shocked to find Barbotin, a capable field medic in his own right, sitting on the edge of the bed dabbing a salve on the bruising around his neck. Barbotin had spent a few minutes filling him in on what he had missed. Aramis had felt a little embarrassed to have missed the fight despite the medic pointing out that he was in no state to fight anyway even going as far as to tell him that Athos had merely watched the skirmish.

Now Aramis was watching Porthos who was busy trying not to swear at Luc who was holding him still as Barbotin stitched a nasty looking injury to his shoulder. One of the cadets was practically lying over Porthos' legs to help keep the complaining man from moving too much. Aramis was glad he was not the one inflicting the stitches at that moment.

'How are you feeling now?' asked Treville who had found an old wooden crate to use as a seat and placed it next to his bed.

'A lot better than I was,' replied Aramis with honesty.

He knew he was still weak from the poison and the assortment of scrapes and bruises he had received which, when added to the brief strangulation, had left him stiff and uncomfortable.

'When we get back to Paris, I would like Lemay to have a look at you. We don't know if there will be any long-term effects from ingesting those berries.'

Aramis nodded, although he was sure the poison would just work its way out of his system, he knew it was wise to be sure.

'Don't tell Porthos you're concerned,' said Aramis quietly, 'he's feeling bad enough as it is.'

Treville smiled and nodded, 'Athos told me what happened. I think we will have to put up with his guilt for a little while.'

Aramis knew his Captain was correct. Porthos had apologised enough already but was probably not ready to accept that he had done what they needed to.

'Where are d'Artagnan and Athos?'

Treville smiled, 'not gone far. After we sorted out the injury to Athos' arm, he and d'Artagnan found a quiet spot around the side of the cottage, the last I saw they were both eating. D'Artagnan still has a headache but I'm sure he will be better once he's slept.

Aramis nodded; he went back to watching Porthos who had passed out. Barbotin glanced across at them.

'I fully understand why you knock him out. I've never had to deal with someone that combative before.'

Aramis smiled, 'he is not the best patient. Is that going to hinder him?'

Barbotin looked at the freshly stitched wound as the cadet that had been helping them pushed the unconscious man on to his side so that they could dress it.

'He won't be sword fighting for a bit, but it was a clean, straight, cut. He's lucky it wasn't his neck though…'

Barbotin went back to his work. Aramis noticed Treville looking at him, it was clear the Captain wanted to ask him something.

'Athos said that you were hanged for a few seconds-'

'Felt like minutes at the time, Captain. I thought I was going to die. I really did…'

'Don't dwell on it, will you? Talk to us if you struggle to sleep or anything, I don't want my men hiding issues. I need you all fit.'

Aramis managed a smile, 'I will. Are you going to give the same, well similar, advice to the others? Athos was forced to hurt d'Artagnan. Porthos was forced to hurt me and he poisoned me. And d'Artagnan felt as though he had let us down by struggling with his head injury.'

Treville nodded, 'I will. You've managed to have quite an adventure. I'm not sure I should let you four out again.'

'What about Perrault? What have you done with him?'

Treville chuckled, 'I have been quite evil, and will no doubt suffer in purgatory for this...do you think you could manage a short walk?'

Aramis nodded, intrigued by the Captain's words. Slower than he would have liked, Aramis managed to swing his legs to the floor. He allowed Treville to help him up but managed to walk unaided. Treville led him out of the house and around to the side.

Aramis was pleased to see Athos and d'Artagnan sat with their backs to the stone wall eating a simple meal of bread and meat. They smiled and nodded a greeting to him. D'Artagnan pointed ahead of them, Aramis looked where he was indicating. The Captain had surpassed himself with his punishment of the disgraced noble.

'The way Athos described what he did,' said Treville, 'I'm not convinced he would be convicted of more than conspiring and even that will be difficult. So far he has been firmly blaming the man that tried to kill me. The King will probably just banish him or throw him in prison...which I don't think is right...we are all going to deny that this,' Treville indicated Perrault, 'happened to him when we get back to Paris, but we will know that he has well and truly paid for what he did to all of you.'

Aramis looked at Perrault, at the fear on his face. He was not sure if he fully approved of the punishment Treville had dealt out, but he could certainly see that it was giving Perrault a taste of his own medicine.

The now scared noble was stood on a crate, his arms bound behind him, a gag muffling his attempts to talk. A rope was around his neck in a similar fashion to the one Aramis had worn before Athos and d'Artagnan were forced to fight. The big difference was that there was enough slack in the rope that if Perrault were to fall from the crate, he would not end up suspended, he would simply fall to the floor. The rope had not been tied to anything, just flung over a tree branch. If Perrault were to look around, he would see the end of the rope trailing across the ground a couple of feet to his left. But Perrault was staring straight ahead, he was visibly shaking, Aramis could tell he thought he was going to be hanged.

'How long are you going to leave him there?' asked Aramis, who despite his loathing for the man did feel a little sympathetic towards him.

'How long were you left like that?'

Aramis thought for a moment, 'I'm not sure, it probably felt longer than it was. Ten minutes perhaps? Maybe a little longer.'

Treville nodded, 'he's already been there about twenty minutes.'

'Perhaps you should let him down now?'

Treville looked at Aramis for a few seconds, before he nodded his understanding. Aramis did not want to see another person suffer as he had, even if it was the person who had caused his suffering. Although Aramis knew Treville would not have the man hanged without express orders to do so he did not like to see Perrault enduring the trauma of not knowing what was going to happen to him. His future was uncertain enough as it was without torturing him. Treville had made his point, Perrault would never forget what he had put other people through.

MMMM

Perrault was allowed down and sent on his way early the following morning, accompanied by three Musketeers and two cadets. Treville had not wanted to take the risk that any of the noble's men were still in the area and prepared to fight for his release.

Athos watched the men go as he saddled his own horse, pleased the beast had been found with his stablemates tied up a little distance from the clearing that had caused the Musketeers so many issues.

Aramis and d'Artagnan had been left to sleep, stretched out on the two old beds in the cottage. The rest of the men were breaking camp ready to leave as soon as the injured men were ready. Porthos had humbly apologised to Luc, Barbotin and the cadet that had treated him. Luc had patted his good arm a couple of times to show there were no hard feelings between them. Barbotin had told Porthos his thanks should really come in the form of not pulling the stitches and resting until he was properly fit to use his arm again. Athos had chuckled when Porthos agreed to the terms and remarked that Aramis had trained the medic well.

Marc and Pierre, with the rest of the cadets, had dealt with the bodies of Perrault's men. The captured men were delivered to the local authorities by the rest of the Musketeers.

Getting the four tired and injured Musketeers on to their horses proved to be an interesting few minutes. Aramis was the only one of them that managed to mount up on his own although he looked distinctly green when he managed to push himself up to sit straight. Treville aided each of the rest of them in an attempt to keep their assortment of wounds from being agitated.

As they allowed the horses to pick their own way through the wood towards the road the four Musketeers looked at each other for a few moments. Athos could still see the guilt on Porthos' face and Aramis was on the verge of getting annoyed at his friend.

'How many times will I need to forgive you? Not that there is anything to forgive you for. I would have been prepared to take the risk anyway and you know that.'

Porthos did not respond for a few seconds. He sighed and managed to twist to look at Aramis.

'Well next time try not to pass out when we're busy discussing how we're going to get ourselves out of trouble. Then I won't be put in that situation again.'

D'Artagnan, who had been watching with intrigue had to look away quickly, a smirk obvious on his face as he glanced at Athos who rolled his eyes.

'You're turning it into being my fault now?' asked Aramis.

'Yes,' replied Porthos decisively.

Aramis looked ahead of them before speaking again, 'I think I preferred it when you were blaming yourself for almost killing me,' he said with mock indignation.

Porthos chuckled.

Athos was pleased Porthos had finally accepted that he was not at fault. They had all been forced to do things they did not want to. All been used for the gain of another. And in the end, nothing had been gained, which although it had come at a cost to each of them, Athos was particularly pleased about.

The End.

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it.